


Eat Me

by Schmuzz



Series: La Petite Mort [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 20:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1615505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schmuzz/pseuds/Schmuzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan goes for the jugular and Michael goes for… prudent emotional attachments?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eat Me

**Author's Note:**

> Stemming from the prompt: “I was wondering if you could do another chapter of suck on this that ryan actually sucks blood from michaels neck and it is like a religious experience for both of them” I natural assumed ‘religious experience’ meant touching tips.

It’d been about two months since I found out Ryan was a vampire, and didn’t that sound like a shitty opening line for a shitty romance novel sequel. I was personally taking solace in the fact that neither of us were teenage _anything_ and that Ryan Haywood and Vampire Diaries still had a mile long dividing line between them. Really, the biggest change that came from finding out about Ryan’s secret was that we were together.

Together was a loose term. For now. No one at the office knew, though that was mostly to hold off on the inevitable teasing that would plague both our lives forever. That, and a few weeks of lunch dates (previously just the two of us going out to lunch as friends) and occasional nights spent at Ryan’s house didn’t exactly scream ‘together forever’.

I privately had my hopes that this… whatever it was didn’t taper out in another month, because I _liked_ Ryan; he easily ticked off the boxes of Attractive Companion, being smart, funny, nice, and hot as hell. We were used to being together for hours at a time, anyway. It was almost like having a crush on your college roommate or something. Working where I did introduced me to a lot of amazing people, and it was hard to view all my relationships as completely platonic, even if I knew and readily accepted it wasn’t going to lead anywhere. Ryan had been like that for years; he was a close friend, and I was more than happy to hang out with him and didn’t really stop myself from checking him out when I thought he wasn’t looking, but I didn’t cry myself to sleep at the thought that we would never be more than friends.

Then suddenly we were. And fuck was that amazing. Even better was that after Ryan bit me, after all the malleable sexual tension, it didn’t get awkward; not really. We didn’t avoid each other and stutter and try to apologize – we both knew what we wanted, and that we didn’t want things to change all that much. We still had our lunches together and played video games and all of that but _now_ there was an added element to top it all off. In fact, we were hanging out right in Ryan’s house right _now_ – it was Sunday and yesterday evening we had been too drunk to do more than attempt some sort of foreplay before giving up and falling asleep until one in the afternoon. The day had been a ringed haze of figuring out who had driven our cars back from the bar (Jack had gotten mine, Lindsay had picked up Ryan’s, and we both agreed to buy the two of them a round next weekend as thanks.) and mindlessly watching television until we started to feel cohesive. I was laying down, my feet stretched into Ryan’s lap. He didn’t seem to mind the contact, never objected to any touch I offered up, actually, and for that I was grateful. Maybe what I felt for Ryan wasn’t some deep abiding love, it was a bit too early to tell what would happen – but I knew that I liked being with him, and that I trusted him, and for now that was enough.

Although, what pushed me being content with Ryan to actually wanting something to develop might have come with the vampire thing. I decided not to examine it too closely, but Ryan biting me was way, way hotter than it should have been – maybe it was the dependency, or the way it made me feel like I had downed four shots and taken a hit off a joint all at once. The black, intense look Ryan had, the desperation that followed… well there was probably a decently long list of reasons why Ryan biting me was way, way hotter than it should have been, and why, whenever Ryan laughed at a joke on screen (courtesy of a Community rerun) I was staring at his teeth, willing for a flash of knife-point sharpness to appear and glint in the light. I was desperate for his teeth to sink into me again.

The only problem was, the same urge hadn’t seem to have risen for Ryan.

Ryan said he had gotten an ‘itch’ every week or two, but that was with the pig’s blood, and I was wondering if me being human was making him so unresponsive. Or maybe he was trying to lay off; I said I wouldn’t mind getting bitten, but apparently it was rare for the victim to actually get a kick out of it, so ignoring the vampire thing could have been Ryan trying to be nice. In that light, it all seemed logical and thoughtful and something I would greatly appreciate, but it wasn’t, and I didn’t.

To be honest, the past few weeks I had been on edge. I had spent a lot of time digging my thumbnail into my wrist – Ryan’s teeth marks had long since healed anyway, taking away all evidence of what had transpired between us. But _I_ knew, I remembered, and I wanted it to happen again.

I just had to find the right time to ask him.

I wasn’t a fucking moron; work was right out, and anywhere in public too, just in case this was some super sensitive subject – it didn’t seem to be the first time around, but who knew? And the last few times I had been alone with Ryan I had either wussed out or… gotten distracted. Now, though, I couldn’t help but stare Ryan down, paying less and less attention to the television as time went on.

Ryan had a nice profile, I decided, idly. I liked how he looked when he was concentrating on something. The way his lower eyelids would squint and his mouth pulled down more than when he was talking to you or sleeping or staring off into space. I liked how his hand cradled along his jaw, which always looked tough and jagged until the moment Ryan smiled, then it rounded off and seemed harmless. His face was changing every moment I looked at him, so I kept on observing, quietly imagining that I would broach the topic _here_ , or I would take a preliminary breath so I could go, _’Hey, Ryan, I’ve been meaning to ask you…’_ but each time I tried my mouth had frozen shut along with my vocal cords. It was pissing me off, to be honest, and I sank down in my seat, glaring at Ryan instead of merely admiring how he looked.

Of course I was being so fucking obvious, practically swooning in my seat, that he took notice.

"Something wrong, Michael?” Ryan asked, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. He was being serious, but his voice was warm and deep and big enough that the words wrapped around me, patronizing me by their presence alone. I bit the inside of my cheek. The intense feelings of the first feeding had faded, just like the impressions you had whenever you experienced something. Days or weeks later, you were just left with a senseless memory – you could remember _what_ you felt, but you couldn’t go back and experience it the same way. I remember the grogginess settling over me like a buzzed stupor; Ryan’s arms strong brackets against my own, holding me in place; I felt desperate, turned on, and I knew that’s what I felt, but I couldn’t do more than come up with a list of events and the matching feelings to go with it. I wanted more, and fantasizing wasn’t going to cut it. It was either this or wait another week. Another seven days of looking for fangs and black eyes and bloodlust, trying to spit out a simple request. I took a deep breath; couldn’t pussy out of this one.

“Are you hungry?” I asked, forcing out the words.

Ryan shrugged. “It’s only four. We can order something if you want –”

“No,” I said, feeling my voice drag. “I meant, _are you hungry?_ ”

The room went silent. For a second, I thought Ryan had even muted the television, but it was just my own anxiousness holding me in a soundless stasis; seconds later I heard characters screaming, probably at something I would have laughed at, if I wasn’t watching Ryan, fascinated and still slightly nervous, as his eyes visibly darkened.

“Why do you ask?” he said. Had his voice gone lower, too?

“Just… you said you usually feed every week or so.” Ryan nodded agreeably.

“I do. Guess you could say that your blood packed more of a punch.” He grinned toothily. His incisors looked normal, still, but the expression was pretty far fucking flung from being innocent. “Though, now that you mention it…” He leaned towards me, only slightly, not moving from where he sat on the other side of the couch, but it was clear I had his undivided attention.

“If I knew you were this interested…” I supposed, rolling my eyes at my own awkwardness. Now my tension had decidedly switched to anticipation. I felt my skin prickle, warning me to be alert, to get away. I gladly remained rooted to my spot on the couch.

“I didn’t want to ask you something if you weren’t sure about it,” Ryan said. “Or force the issue. Why did you ask? Were you curious?” He blinked slowly. “Or… do you want me to bite you?”

 _Fuck yes_. “Couldn’t say I’d mind,” I said, casually. “I do remember saying I would be up for it after the first time.”

“I didn’t want to take what you said for granted,” Ryan replied. “Taking like that is only sometimes pleasant, and I didn’t want you to feel obligated.”

“Yeah, but, really,” I straightened against the couch and slid my feet off of him, “I insist.” Ryan laughed quickly, that mix of a chuckle and guffaw that he did that sounded slightly high-pitched for his voice. It was friendly and reassuring, and I felt myself smiling back.

“Now?”

“I mean, unless you have other plans,” I said dryly, glancing at the television. Ryan picked up the remote sitting in the middle of the couch and pressed the power button, placing the two of us in a near silent house. My smile grew wider, and I had to fight down a small laugh when Ryan moved forward, settling onto my thighs, to kiss me. I kept a hand pressed to the back of his neck, fingers pressing gently along the notch at the top of his spine. He kissed the corner of my mouth, hand swiping along the pulse in my throat. I tried not to jump in my seat, but my heartbeat sped up anyway, and Ryan smiled, teeth sharp and carnivorous. “Don’t tell me you can hear that,” I muttered.

“Hear what?” he asked, stroking along the skin of my neck, touch so light it tickled. “I can _feel_ it.”

“I…” I bit the inside of my cheek. Somehow, Ryan was giving me exactly what I wanted and I still felt embarrassed. That asshole looked so fucking smug, too, when I didn’t answer back. His mouth was pink and upturned like he was plotting something right at the moment, eyes drifting from a stormy blue to a midnight, gaping black. “What.” I said, after he watched me silently for a few seconds.

Ryan shrugged. “Sorry,” he said, voice lower than it was before. He brushed his hand along my cheek, “You’re just… kind of cute, sometimes.” I wrinkled my nose and shifted uncomfortably, looking up at Ryan from this angle was starting to make my neck hurt.

“And you’re kind of heavy,” I retorted.

“Oh. Sorry.” He shifted up and off of me, moving my feet, settling in the middle of the couch. It felt like he was miles away, all the warmth trapped between our bodies suddenly gone. I sat up, got off the couch, Ryan watching me as I went. I settled on his lap, knees on either side of his thighs. It was more comfortable here. “Better?”

“Yeah, you know me,” I said, “I love being on top.” Ryan snorted, kissing me again before I could offer up any other amazing lines. I slid my hand down to the waistband of his jeans, slipping my fingers under his shirt. We kept kissing and Ryan kept on pushing further into me. Our stomachs were touching, then our chests. I felt like we were conjoined at this point, suddenly feeling too hot in my own clothes. Ryan’s mouth pressed wetly into mine. I felt his large hands cover my ribs before edging downwards, along the hem of my shirt. That made me even warmer and I pulled back, panting. Ryan’s mouth looked bruised and I knew mine wasn’t that much better, either. “Want me to take this off?” I asked, quietly.

Ryan’s fingers had wandered to a strip of skin above my jeans, fingernails brushing gently along my hip. “Yeah,” he muttered, looking at me from under his eyelashes. I pulled the shirt over my head – I didn’t do any teasing or tried to make it sexy; there didn’t seem to be a point. Ryan’s eyes were dark, and not just from the promise of blood, either. There was the physical clue to his own desires, ones he didn’t deny or try to hide from me. I liked that; I didn’t need to try to convince him I was attractive or that he should want me – he just did, and he let me know with a proud look on his face the entire time.

I tossed the shirt to the side, wrapping my arms around Ryan’s neck to pull him towards me. I bit his bottom lip, gently, just for a moment. My eyes were half-mast and his face was flushed; I let out a sigh when he kissed along my jaw, quickly working his way down to my neck.

“Going for the jugular?” I joked. Ryan’s smug expression didn’t falter, but up this close I could watch the color of his irises darken, like a cloud blocking out the sun. I glanced down and saw not just abnormally pointy teeth but fangs, this time, huge ones where his incisors were meant to be. I had never seen his mouth last time, and I realized that his fangs didn’t just stop at two; his mouth had turned into razor wire in the moments he chastely kissed the warm skin of my neck, my chin, the soft skin behind my ear. It made my own mouth dry up; I was afraid to kiss him with a mouth like that. Perhaps in some instinctual aspect, I was still afraid of Ryan – at least, when he was like this.

I didn’t move, though. Instead I subjected myself to waiting, impatient as I was, to see what he would do next.

I could feel Ryan’s thigh pressed heavily against my crotch, our legs tangled and our chests pressed tight; he put a hand in my hair, the grip light but urging me to keep my head still. I had the feeling my neck was a lot riskier than my wrist had been, and maybe it would’ve been smarter to ask him to go back there.

But…

He pressed open mouthed kisses along the side of my neck, the hand not holding the crown of my head was rubbing soothing patterns on my back. My own hands were clasped loosely around Ryan’s middle, fingers curling and clenching around each other. I closed my eyes, even though I already couldn’t see Ryan’s teeth sinking into me.

I gasped, felt the prickling sensation, and for a moment I feared that this wasn’t going to be good – that I had remembered everything all wrong, that Ryan’s bite would _hurt_.

But then, like last time, the stinging ache faded away, and I felt my eyelids flutter, my posture relax ever so slightly.

God, I was sure that getting it in the neck felt even fucking better than in the wrist. I slowly, carefully tipped my head to the side to give Ryan’s mouth more room. The euphoric feeling trickled slowly through me, spreading from where he was sucking outward; into my head, mussing it up until my thoughts went soft and sluggish – in my chest, were my pulse seemed to slow and relax, and down further and further. Distantly I heard Ryan swallow deeply, and I felt something warm and wet roll down my collarbone – at least my shirt was already off.

I opened my eyes, squinting at the back of the couch, then straining my sight to where Ryan was buried into the curve of my neck. I felt the stray swipe of his tongue as he went on, the wet sucking sounds permeating my ears. I grunted quietly, and resisted the urge to shift in his lap. It was still all fucked up and felt way too good to stop. I tried to breathe evenly, but kept on stuttering, as though my lungs were suddenly unable to take in oxygen. Every time I felt Ryan’s mouth go in deeper I was trying not to choke; my face was hot, my legs were twitching. I imagined this scene years in the past; Ryan not _Ryan_ , but some man in black wandering around a crumbling castle, sucking the life out of anyone who happened by him. I imagined trying to struggle away, the bite blazing fierce and sting never pulling away. I imagined someone, somewhere, dying horribly, someone else who wasn’t Ryan sucking them dry.

I felt Ryan’s hand move up and down my back. That was Ryan – soothing, gentle, not wanting to bring up who he was for my benefit – and of course it didn’t hurt me. Far, far from it, actually. There I was, walking a thin line between what could hurt and kill me versus what made me want to get off; the two were way closer than they should be, I dumbly thought, just like last time.

Now it was like all the blood was rushing south in an attempt to escape from being sucked out; my cock felt heavy and confined in my jeans and if I wasn’t dizzy maybe I would’ve been embarrassed. Maybe. This was just the second time Ryan bit me, but it sure as hell wasn’t the first time he had made me desperate to get my pants off. I remained still, anyway, eyes flickering up to the white ceiling and breathing in the smell of Ryan detergent and my soap and my own feverish skin. Last time Ryan bit me I still wanted to come, but the blood loss made me too tired. Maybe, I thought, brain working sluggishly, I could stop now. I _really_ didn’t want to, but I could, and if I _did_ –

“Ryan,” I called out, feeling a small shiver run up my spine as Ryan’s body shifted slightly, pressing up into my crotch. I didn’t feel him pull out, was only aware that his eyes were staring into mine. They were still black, and his mouth…

“Too much?” I slowly shook my head, even though it felt like my brain was rattling inside my skull as I did so.

“No I just – it feels really good,” I muttered. “You make me feel really good,” I smiled lazily, and after a moment Ryan seemed to understand that I wasn’t talking just about getting bitten.

“Hmm,” He licked his lips, and reached a finger to drag along the side of my neck. It didn’t hurt, not yet. I shivered instead, watching Ryan take back a red, wet finger and suck it into his mouth. I knew it was blood – my blood – and even if the first thought that popped into my head was, ridiculously enough, blood-borne disease, my cock jumped anyway.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” I heard myself say. Ryan smiled around the digit in his mouth, fangs still protruding. I was practically a dead weight on his lap, now, and he so easily shifted me backwards, hands on my hips, giving us a few inches of space between our bodies. Did sucking blood make him that strong or was I overthinking it? I tried to ask him, but my mouth felt stuffed and parched. Keeping it closed felt much better, and I kept smiling for no reason it seemed. Ryan kissed my neck – the unbitten side – he kept his mouth closed and trailed up to my ear.

“Do you want me to help you out?” he asked, lips lingering along my cheek. I wondered if he stained my skin red by doing that. I was about to dumbly ask ‘help with what’ when I felt Ryan’s hand brush along the bulge in my pants.

 _Shit_ , I thought. _Shiiiiit that felt good._

“Y-eah,” I tried, word hitching. “That’d be nice.” Ryan seemed happy enough to hide in the crook of my neck. I leaned into him, arms loosely grabbing at the back of his shirt. I felt Ryan’s hands at the band of my jeans; I felt the slowly emerging freedom as he undid a button, slid down my zipper.

“Lean up for me,” he said. His mouth was so pressed into my skin it felt like his words had reverberated into my throat, out past my own lips. I shakily moved a few inches off of Ryan’s lap, my knees and thighs quaking uncertainly, my feet were asleep by now, too.

I felt Ryan tug down my pants, my underwear, I was groaning before he put his hands back on me. God I was desperate, like a high school kid messily fumbling around at their first party. I felt too young and too out of it, but I didn’t even think about asking Ryan to stop – I didn’t want him to stop.

I felt his hand on my cock now. His palm was big and warm, I stuttered into his grip and sighed, then jerked forward again when his teeth, still needly and sharp, scraped new skin.

“Ryan,” I said, hands grasping at his back.

“Don’t worry,” He squeezed my cock again, starting a slow motion that made it hard to breathe all over again. “I won’t bite,”

“Th-that’s not fucking funny, jackass.” But I believed him, anyway, shivering when his thumb ran along the tip of my cock, spreading seeped wetness down so he could stroke me faster.

“You tasted really good,” he mumbled. I opened my eyes, staring at the bare living room wall.

“Yeah?”                                                                                                             

“Taste good, sound good, _feel_ good –” He ran his thumb along the top of my shaft again.

“Fuck,” I moaned out.

“Yeah,” Ryan urged, kissing my pulse, “Just like that,” he elongated the words, practically growling them into my ear. My knees pushed me up of their own accord; everything Ryan was doing made my body over sensitive, made me heat up and shiver and writhe in his lap. I felt like I was trying to get away, but his hand was still rubbing lines along my back, bidding me close again, quelling any instinct I had to get up and go.

My face was flushed, my legs were numb, and it felt like molten lead was in my stomach, slowly pooling downwards every time Ryan’s hand moved on me. My head ducked, eyes squeezed shut. Ryan had been kissing my shoulder then, moving back up to a sweet, raw spot on my neck, and the way I shifted made his teeth scratch my skin again, just deep enough that there might’ve been blood that time – couldn’t feel the wetness welling up on my skin, but I could feel Ryan’s tongue sweep along the patch of skin, the broad sides of his fangs hard and hot and deadly.

“A-ah f-fuck,” I stuttered out, pushing up into Ryan’s hand as I came. My neck felt stiff and sore despite Ryan’s kisses, tongue occasionally licking along my neck as if he wanted to get any spare drops. My hips twitched in the aftershocks before I slumped down, leaning backwards. Ryan’s hand kept me on his lap – in that moment I felt like everything had left me; all my blood, all my energy, any use of my mind and my body. I was limited to just breathing, and taking in the blurry sight of Ryan in front of me, and I couldn’t seem to do even those tasks well. I was dimly away of Ryan wiping his hand on his shirt – I had probably ruined it anyway, should’ve asked him to take his off too – and put his other hand on my back as well. I got lost in the act of taking and losing breaths, and my eyes still weren’t focusing, not that I tried to make them yet.

I was faintly aware of the sweat along the back of my neck, my temples, and hair. Ryan’s hands were too hot to be holding me, but the only alternative seemed to be to lean into him totally and I felt like I would’ve died if I did that.

Not necessarily a bad way to go, but I refrained, digging out my voice instead. “Fuck,” I was still panting. “Fuck. Fucking…”

“Fuck?” Ryan muttered teasingly. My toes and fingers curled at the word and I smiled wobbly again.

“Yeah,” I said. “Something like that,” Ryan brushed my hair away from my eyes and I finally focused my gaze, getting a better look at him. “Your eyes are still black,” I noted. He blinked.

“You do taste good,” he offered in a conspiring voice. I huffed out a laugh, reaching my hand over to run down his arm. I risked shifting closer to him, and felt an insistent press along the seam of my jeans when I did so.

“Oh,” I said, glancing down. “You’re hard?” My brain was still foggy, struggling to work. What I felt wasn’t exactly tired, more like a haze had descended, and even I knew that my powers of observations were ridiculously obvious. I would kick myself for it later, at least Ryan was more bemused than annoyed by it.

“What can I say, you put on a good show.” He kissed my neck again. I wondered how torn to shreds it looked. “Do you want to lie down?”

“No, I’m… I’ll be okay. Let me take care of you, first.” Ryan shook his head, his hands had drifted around my arms.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. I leaned in and kissed him, chaste at first, trying to make sure I could still move my lips and tongue. It didn’t turn rough, but I kept going in for more each time I kissed him, like I was proving how much I wanted to do this.

I pulled back just slightly. “I insist,” I said. Ryan smiled, slowly.

“You sure?”

“I’m fucking positive,” To prove my point I gently squeezed Ryan through his pants. He gasped sharply, and I felt myself smirk.

“Okay, okay, you make a really convincing argument.”

“Good,” I said, slowly nodding. “Lean against the armrest, I _really_ want to blow you.” Ryan coughed, face abruptly going pink. Maybe I was being a bit forward (slutty might’ve been a better word, actually) but it wasn’t like I was doing something I wasn’t totally on fucking board with. I moved off of Ryan, watching intensely as he laid down, back supported by the armrest, more slanted than sitting. His legs were spread open, one foot dangling off the couch on the floor. His face was still flushed, mouth red and eyes dark. I eyed his shirt. “You wanna take that off?” I asked.

“A little late for that now,” though he leaned forward and pulled the T-shirt over his head, anyway, dropping it behind the couch.

I crawled over to him, kissed him again on the mouth, then the jaw, then the neck. “Sorry about that,” I said.

“It’s fine,” His hands were in my hair, rubbing along the back of my neck. “Heat of the moment and everything.” I snorted, hands brushing along his chest and sides. I lingered for a minute, but drifted down rather quickly, mouth kissing low on his stomach while I unbuttoned his pants and tugged down his zipper, small metallic whistle sounding as I did so. I tugged down his jeans and underwear, Ryan seemed to get the hint and lifted his hips up as I did so. I didn’t stop until his cock was no longer confined in his clothes. Flushed, swollen, I wrapped my fingers around his shaft and smirked when his entire body twitched. “Still sure you wanna do this?” Ryan asked, already breathing hard like I had been minutes ago.

“Don’t fucking test me, Ryan,” I warned. To prove my point I put my mouth around the head and swallowed down as far as I could go.

Ryan didn’t say anything, though he did breathe in and seem on the verge of yelling something, so that was good. I wasn’t exactly great at sucking dick because, surprise, I hadn’t had much of a chance to practice, but the last and only other time I had done this to Ryan, he had liked it. And there was something else – a tangible charge in the room that trailed behind even after Ryan had taken my blood. The remaining fact that I trusted him and wanted him to bite me, the fact that he was full of what I had given him – it had been enough to make me squirm, so I imagined Ryan had to have gotten some sort of kick out of it too. It wasn’t like he was going around biting people every day – at least, not with people who liked it.

I let saliva pool in my mouth before pulling away to lick my palm. I went back to just teasing his head, letting my hand slick up the rest of his shaft in slow, tight curls of my fist. My mouth already felt bruised, but I could ignore that, keep going, making a tight ring with my mouth as I sucked him down.

“Shit…” he groaned, after a minute. One of his hands was fisted loosely in my hair. His grip would tighten if I went deeper, if my fist clenched around him. I pulled back to breathe, looking up at him as I palmed the head of his shaft again. His eyes were still like a shark’s – impenetrable and sinister looking. Any threat he would’ve appeared to be, however, was cut off by the way he seemed to hang off the sofa, how his chest would rapidly rise and fall, the way he bit down on his lip or the inside of his cheek to stop from making noise when I let my hand drift lower. “Michael,” he whispered.

“Yes?” The word let out a gust of air over Ryan’s dick.

“ _Michael_ ,”

“Something you wanna say?” I smirked up at him.

“Can you, uh, keep going?” Ryan seemed embarrassed to ask. “Please?”

“Good on you for using your manners,” I said. I rested my free hand up along the ridge of his hip, fingers pressing along his stomach. His muscles there seemed tense, and I guessed that he was pretty close. I sank my mouth on him again. Sucking off somebody wasn’t as big a deal as letting them drink blood from you, but Ryan still made it worth it. I felt his hand tighten harshly.

“Michael,” he said it warningly, and I was personally enjoying that the last couple of times he tried to speak, it had just been my name. I kept my mouth on his cock, fist working what I couldn’t reach. I tried to shove Ryan’s cock far enough down that I wouldn’t taste everything; I gagged a little, but it worked. I felt his fingers flex in my hair; he was panting, and I could feel the muscles of his legs strain under my weight. His cock pulsed in my mouth and I heard him curse quietly above me, stopping a few times to gulp down air that did nothing to make him sound more composed. I swallowed a few times, making Ryan jolt.

I let him slip out of my mouth and took a breath, mouth wet and stretched. I glanced up at Ryan. He didn’t seem especially bothered to talk, even when I raised my eyebrows at him all he did was smile shyly, like he didn’t know where to go from here. It was cute, even I could admit that. He went forward and pressed his mouth into my hair when I started to sit up.

So, there we were, the two of us panting, red faced, huddled over each other with our dicks out. Number one romance of the year, in my books. Ryan leaned forward, and for a few seconds I was afraid that his mouth was still needles and knives.

Usually I can kiss someone and have to work up to the point of getting my mouth open, but with Ryan it just happened, like that was the only way to kiss him: All or nothing. My tongue brushed along a row of teeth and I was relieved to feel nothing sharp at all. I smiled into the kiss – of course he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me; that’s why I trusted him, right?

I felt his thumbs just in front of my ears and I moved my hands up, tugging him closer by the thighs. It was a hard angle to meet in, but we worked it out for a little while. We pulled back from one another reluctantly.

“I think you’re getting better at this,” he said, looking serious. “Can I be concerned? Because I think that I’m a little concerned.”

“Rent doesn’t pay itself, Ryan.” He quirked a side of his mouth and I stood up, wobbling uncertainly on my feet. I felt like we had been cramped up on that couch for hours. “I’m gonna look at my neck,” I said, pointing to my throat. I pulled and redid my pants on the way, ducking into a bathroom a door over from the kitchen.

Ryan seemed to have followed me, because after a moment of examining myself in the mirror he was standing in the doorway. “I can see you in the reflection,” I noted, failing to hold back a yawn – the exhaustion had crept up when the haze went, I guessed.

“It’d be a huge ass giveaway if I didn’t show up in a mirror,” Ryan said. “You know, one day we should sit down and make a list of all the weird vampire shit I can’t do.”

“Yeah…” I said distractedly, tracing the bite marks on my neck. There were two pin holes like last time on one side, and the other was more of an irritated deep scratch, complete with a small ring of dried blood. Lower on my collar were bruises from Ryan’s kisses and teasing scrapes. I felt a shiver go through me when I raised a finger and pressed on them, and only part of it was from the pain that followed.

“Here, I got that,” he said, ducking down and pulling out some cleaning alcohol and a box of band-aids. He set them on the counter, plucked out a few tissues from a nearby box and doused them in the solution.

“Thanks,” I said, not feeling especially thankful as I felt the alcohol pinch my nerves along the cuts. The skin around the marks were angry and flushed. “Do these bites ever get infected?”

“I don’t know, probably,” Ryan dabbed the other side, the prick marks. They hurt even worse. “I always cleaned the bites I got, and made sure that anyone else had theirs patched up.”

“They’re pretty visible, aren’t they?” I asked quietly. Ryan met my eyes in the mirror before pulling out a small tube of ointment from the band-aid box, along with a few strips.

“Yeah,” His voice had also dropped. “I know it’s a cliché to go in the neck but, really, it’s way too much attention.”

“Could probably just… leave the band-aid on. Say it was a really bad hickey.”

“Yeah, but, who’s the hickey going to be from?” I felt the strips stick onto the skin of my neck, hiding the bite marks but not the fact that there was some sort of injury there. We were fucking morons, I realized, because when Ryan had bit me in the wrist I could just wear long sleeves, but we didn’t have anything with a high collar, and I sure as fuck didn’t wear scarves. I blanched, realizing that on Monday at least half the office would know what I was up to on Sunday.

“We’re fucking stupid.”

Ryan just hummed in agreement.

“Well,” I said haltingly, looking at the reflection of Ryan instead of the man himself. “I could lie.” Ryan had been putting the supplies away. He paused, a bottle of medicinal alcohol still in his hand.

“…You could,” he said. He carefully put the bottle back on its shelf before straightening up. His eyes had faded back into a watery blue. He looked concerned, more than anything. I chewed on my lip for a second.

“Or I could – I mean, we could be honest. Go to Burnie and Matt, and uh, Geoff. Tell them we’re sort of a thing. Probably not as soon as we wanted…” If Ryan wanted this to be anything at all.

I was a little surprised that he nodded, seemingly without any reservations. “That’s probably the best idea,” Ryan said.

“And you’re cool with it?”

“I mean,” he made a quick motion with his hands. “You could say we’ve been together for two months. Which isn’t _exactly_ insignificant. Gavin and Meg were under wraps for longer. We could probably just, you know, not make any public announcements until later. People at the office are dicks, but they’re not going to let the whole world know.”

“I have a bad feeling about Gavin,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “Or Ray. The both of them, actually. They’re pieces of shit and I don’t know why I hang out with them.”

“Because awful people attract other awful people,” Ryan said, smiling. I stared at him, then opened my arms.

“What does that fucking say about you?” I yelled, but Ryan was already walking out of the bathroom, laughing quietly to himself. “Okay, so it’s decided. We’ll find each other in the morning and track down Burnie and Matt and Geoff and…” I sighed, putting my hands on the counter, staring at my reflection. Ryan said we were together. Or rather, he said ‘ _you_ could say we’ve been together’. Which… well it was better than nothing. Having him want to acknowledge ourselves to anyone so readily was better than nothing.

The bandages on my neck stared sorely back at me. This was what I got for deciding I wanted something for the both of us: Workplace harassment.

“I can do this,” I said, banging my head softly into the mirror. I was pretty sure that Ryan was too far away to hear me.


End file.
